On the morning of August 29th, three days from the end of that cursed August, news of another death came before Seishin. Ohta Kenji who lived in Sotoba had died. Ohta was 53 years old, a high school teacher. He collapsed at school, then taken to the municipal hospital and put on a respirator.
"Somehow, things just hadn't been going well for him," said Sotoba's care manager, Murasako Munehide on the phone. "The man himself had been saying his body was sore and he was wanting to retire. But, it was in the middle of the school year, wasn't it? So they convinced him to hold off on retirement, and suddenly away he goes. It seems his liver had gone bad."
Is that so, answered Seishin as his thoughts ran in circles. Was this another case of that? Anyway for the time being he made funeral arrangements with Munehide, then Seishin contacted Toshio.
"I think that Ishida-san will be copying the medical certificate but Sotoba's Ohta Kenji died."
That right, Toshio said, his reply short. With Nao having died the day before yesterday, this made twelve dead. Seishin hung up the phone and went to visit his father in the separate building.
Watching Seishin leave the temple office, Ikebe looked up at the blackboard.
"Say, Tsurumi-san." At Ikebe's voice, Tsurumi lifted his face from the accounting book spread open on the desk. "About this Ohta-san, what kind of person was he?"
"What kind? If I recall, I think he was a high school teacher. I get the feeling I'd heard somewhere that he was a vice principal but."
"In other words, still before retirement age, correct?"
"That'd be right."
Not an old man, thought Ikebe. Not an old man to whom it wouldn't be strange for something to happen. Just yesterday, Yasumori Nao's funeral had just concluded, and Ikebe himself couldn't keep track of just how many houses they'd done funerals for since the month had started.
"Don't you think it's kinda strange?"
Mm, was Tsurumi's vague reply.
"Do you think someone like that person would die like that?"
Tsurumi's sturdy shoulder shrugged faintly. These things do happen, he said lowly but, his voice was dyed with an uncertainty. On that note they fell to silence, Ikebe losing his means of continuing the conversation and also falling into silence. Into the strange silence that had settled over the temple office came Mitsuo, morning dutied finished and a pot of barley tea in hand.
"---? What's this, are things busy?"
No, Ikebe answered. "There was just a call, it seems there will be another funeral in Sotoba. Ohta-san's."
Mitsuo blinked.
"Ohta---Gousou-san, was it?"
"No, it seems that it was Kenji-san, they are saying."
"Then, his son, was it. ...Whats the world coming to." Mitsuo shook his head and set down the pot.
"There are a lot this year, aren't there?" Ikebe said, earning a large sigh from Mitsuo.
"You said it. Just yesterday, we just finished having the Yasumori's wife's funeral, then today we're having another vigil with another funeral tomorrow. While we're hustling with all this, the fourty-ninth day anniversaries and equinoctial weeks are next. It's this heat, just thinking about it makes me dizzy."
"How long to you think this will go on?"
"Who can say? Halfway through next month it'll cool off and things should become a little easier."
"No, that's not what I...."
From Ikebe's side as he corrected, Tsurumi's low voice rose up.
"How long will the deaths continue is what he's trying to say, Ikebe-kun here. ---Rght?"
Mitsuo turned to look at the two of them, Ikebe looking uncomfortably at Tsurumi and nodding.
"Since August started, don't you think something's odd, Mitsuo-san? Indeed, it is as Ikebe-kun says. I wonder how long this will carry on?"
Aa, Mitsuo said vaguely voicing unpleasant thoughts.
"At the start of August the Gotouda's son died, and then there was the incident in Yamairi. Even if they were old people, it was three at once. From there, there was the Missy from Shimizu-san's place and Maruyasu's Giichi-san, the old woman from Gotouda and the wide of the contractors. On top of that, another---"
"I definitely think there's a lot, but. After all since August there've been seven funerals. Nine dead. It feels like this isn't normal, doesn't it?"
"Feels like? Mitsuo-san, this's, well, really not normal. Isn't that right? In one month, nine people. Sure, this year it's been, like, hot. But hot summers cold winters, it isn't like we've never had them like this before. All the same nine people in one month, is that something you can remember happening?"
That's, Mitsuo said, caught up in his words. To tell the truth, Mitsuo himself realized something was strange. Deaths were things that came in mysterious successions but, he couldn't remember any that continued to this extent.
"Certainly, there aren't any that come to mind until now that have gone on like this."
"Right? But, lately I'd been thinking, you know? And I remembered something similar to this."
Eh, said Mitsuo turning to look back at Tsurumi.
"Mitsuo-san, do not you remember too? My father and yours were temple monks, so we've been coming to the temple since we were kids. One funeral set up after another, the temple dancing with activity, had happened a long, long time ago."
Mitsuo held in a small breath. Yes, certainly he had said. It was the season when Mitsuo had only just graduated from elementary school. At first he was happy when his dad kept coming home with packed leftovers from meals exchanged between parishioners and the priests, but he remembered becoming gradually disconcerted.
"But even then there weren't this many. ---No, remembering it now, I seem to think it felt like tt was about this much, but actually wasn't it far fewer?"
"Aa... That's right, isn't it? It was."
Hearing that, Ikebe's mouth crumpled as if in relief. "What? Even if it's rare, these things do happen, don't they?"
Tsurumi nodded with a melancholy expression at Ikebe who had spoke as if relieved.
"Yes,.... it was during the Asia Flu season."
Ikebe's face became stuff just then. "Asia Flu... the mass spread of the flu?"
"Aa. It was terrible then. People were dropping like flies. There were few enough dead that you could still keep track of it, but back then the temple felt about like it does now, at least to me."
Mitsuo nodded.
Then, said Ikebe, his pallor changing. "It can't be that this time, too---an epidemic?"
"Then, Father, if you please."
With words of gratitude to his father from his sickbed bedside, Seishin left Shinmei's room. His mother who had come to clear away breakfast closed the door and breathed a sigh.
"Whatever could be happening, I wonder. This year has been nothing but funerals, it's hurting my head."
Yes, Seishin replied noncommittally.
"Is this what they call 'a lucky year' I wonder? You please be careful as well. Don't push yourself too much."
"I understand." Seishin said, separating from Miwako as she went towards the kitchen in the main wing of the house. Heading back down the hallway to return to the office, Mitsuo was waiting halfway there for him with an uneasy expression.
"Ah----Mitsuo-san, actually,"
Have you heard, Mitsuo said with a grave expression.
"Is this about Ohta-san's son, I wonder?"
"Yes. Ohta-san will be buried on our lots, so we will be depending on you. The funeral will also be handled by the temple, so."
Mitsuo nodded, then lightly took Seishin's arm.
"Junior Monk, what is happening?"
"What---?"
"Acknowledged. I will tell Tsurumi-san and Ikebe-kun the same instructions. Please have peace of mind regarding this much."
Seishin lowered his head. He was thankful for Mitsuo's trust. Watching over Mitsuo as he left, 'still', a part of Seishin thought, with a lingering sentiment of guilt.
Neither Mitsuo nor Tsurumi could know the true death count. This was because the news of deaths of those not of the parish did not reach their ears. To Mitsuo and the others, Ohta made the ninth death. Yet all the same the true death toll was twelve. And furthermore out of those twelve almost all of them went to an acute onset. A few days before they looked to be in good health but, suddenly, death. Twelve cases and counting. He wondered if Mitsuo would smile at him like that if he knew.